


Consortium

by meretricula



Series: Yuletide Stories [32]
Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/pseuds/meretricula
Summary: Children, Maleficent decided, were significantly more work than she had realized.
Relationships: Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Series: Yuletide Stories [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590115
Comments: 16
Kudos: 299
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Consortium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelogicalghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelogicalghost/gifts).



In Diaval's defense, he'd had no idea of the importance the exiled fae placed on the caretakers of their offspring. "Oh, aye, as much as my mistress for sure," he'd said carelessly when Borra had asked him -- in a hushed, serious voice, which should have tipped him off, since Borra was rarely serious and never quiet -- if it was true that he'd helped raise the queen from a baby. But he was proud of their Beastie, and wasn't he right to be, for she'd turned out so well? As much as he loved his mistress, he'd be the first to admit she wasn't what anyone would call demonstrative. Maleficent was Godmother, but he was the one who had worried if Aurora was eating and sleeping, the one who had learned to bandage skinned mortal knees and kiss them. He looked forward to doing the same for Aurora's children, someday. 

In the meantime, the fae had apparently taken it upon themselves to ensure he stayed in practice. They started with the ones old enough to talk and toddle around, which should have simplified matters, except that when Aurora had been the same age she hadn't known how to _fly_. Diaval spent the first few days in too great a panic at the thought of one of them fluttering straight into the river or up into an air current or down a ravine to question why, of all the creatures on the Moors, the fae had chosen to drop their offspring in his lap. Afterwards, of course, he was too attached to make a fuss. Maleficent hardly needed him anymore, now that there was peace between the realms, even if it stung him to think it — or at least, she needed him less than the orphaned fae children, with their sticky hands and ungroomed wings. 

He missed flying, and sitting on Maleficent's shoulder, but she had the fae for companions now, and never seemed to miss his presence. He mostly settled into his man's body (wingless though it was, the opposable thumbs were a great convenience), and into a routine: rise at dawn, wrangle the three children who had somehow become his primary responsibility into clothing and see to it that they were fed, and gather together with the other fae children on the border of the Moors to watch over them while their parents tended to their other responsibilities. His days were predictable, but full, and he found he liked knowing from hour to hour where he would be next. 

This, as it turned out, was a mistake. 

*

"Maleficent! Maleficent!" 

Maleficent considered feigning deafness when she realized that the noise on the edge of her hearing was in fact one of the fae calling her name. It was perhaps no longer necessary that she fly a daily patrol of the Moors, now that there was peace with the humans, but she preferred to keep an eye on the land herself. It was also nowadays the only time she had to herself. Once Diaval would have come with her, but he seemed to have an inordinate number of demands on his time — though none assigned by her — and rarely presented himself nowadays to accompany her on her flight. 

While she hovered in place, the fae chasing after her came close enough to recognize, and she sighed as she turned back to meet him. Borra, at least, had a healthy enough respect for her temper not to waste her time. If he had come to fetch her, her presence must truly be required. "Maleficent, it's your consort," he panted out as soon as their flight paths met. 

Maleficent frowned, try to reconcile the urgency of his tone with the meaninglessness of his words. "My what?" 

"Your _consort_!" Borra stared at her. "Do you use a different word? Your nest-mate, your child-rearer — _Diaval_. He was minding the children while they played outside and there was a human separatist attack. The children are all safe but he was injured protecting them, and Queen Aurora insisted he be carried to the castle. I thought you would want to know — " 

Whatever else Borra thought she would want to know, Maleficent did not hear it, as she was already flying home as fast as her wings could carry her. She did not go often to the human castle: the unpleasant memories the walls carried would never truly be washed clean for her, no matter if Aurora draped them in flowers. And she knew that she made the humans nervous, still. There was no need to provoke them. But even if she hadn't visited since the wedding, she knew where Aurora would have brought Diaval, and Aurora had left the balcony door open for her. 

"Godmother, thank heavens," her daughter said as soon as she landed. She looked pale and anxious, Maleficent decided, but not distraught, which meant it was safe to look past Aurora to the bed she sat beside. 

Diaval always looked ever so slightly wrong in his human form, missing some essential element, but it was a familiar incompleteness. Now he looked like a wax sculpture of a man, except for the redness of infection spiderwebbing out from his shoulder: completely void of life. "An iron blade?" she asked. 

"I washed the wound with spring water and grain spirits, but I'm afraid it won't be enough without magic and he'll lose the use of his arm. Godmother, you must know a spell you can use?" 

"Yes," Maleficent said distantly. "I know a spell. Tell me, have you found the man responsible?" 

"He wasn't able to run far," Aurora said. "Philip is questioning him now. We think he was working alone — his son died in the last battle, and he carried a grudge. Of course we'll make certain, but the attack doesn't seem to be part of a larger scheme." 

"See to it that he is dealt with before Diaval wakes, Beastie. Or else I shall do something to him that you shan't like at all." Maleficent laid a hand on Diaval's injured shoulder, preparing to draw on her magic, and then was nearly startled into flight when a whirlwind of feathers burst out from under the bed. 

"What are you doing to Diaval?" the pugnacious little creature demanded. It was followed by two more winged beasts of slightly larger size, one of which had gotten tangled in the bedskirts; Aurora had to come around the bed to pull it free. 

"Ava, you should be more respectful," Aurora chided. "Godmother, can Diaval's orphans stay here with you? They won't want to leave him before he wakes." 

"Diaval's... orphans," Maleficent repeated, examining the ragamuffins more closely. They were small and not terribly attractive, but they did at least appear to be clean. The littlest one had fluttered up to the bed while Aurora was distracted and was now curled up beside Diaval, making a hideous face at Maleficent. "I see." 

"Thank you, Godmother, that's a great help. I'll return as quickly as I can to see how you're getting on. Will you need any bandages, or medicine...?" 

"No," Maleficent said. "I require nothing but _silence_ ," she added pointedly to the fae children, who were now all piled together on the bed and whispering to each other. Satisfied that they had been cowed into submission, she took a deep breath and began a healing spell. 

*

Diaval woke slowly, to the sound of children's voices chirping and Maleficent's much deeper, slower one responding. As soon as he realized _what_ he was hearing, he forced himself the rest of the way to consciousness. "What... happened?" 

"You foolishly inserted your body between your charges and an iron blade," Maleficent said coolly. "I must say that I'm not entirely convinced it was a worthwhile endeavor." 

"You're _mean_ ," Taran said, half-admiring. Behind him, Ava made a face. 

"Behave yourselves," Diaval warned. He tried to sit up, and immediately regretted it. 

"Stay _put_ ," Maleficent commanded at her most autocratic. Diaval closed his eyes and let the ensuing lecture wash over him, so relieved he thought he might cry: in the endless, thankless grind of caring for the children, he truly missed his mistress's tendency to take charge of whatever situation they were in, and him along with it. "I didn't put so much effort into repairing that shoulder for you to undo all my work. This new habit of yours for flinging yourself into unnecessary danger is vastly inconvenient and I trust you will amend the fault at the first opportunity." 

"Yes, mistress," Diaval said. 

Ava's wings had steadily puffed up with indignation throughout Maleficent's diatribe, and she finally exploded, "He's hurt! You should be nicer to him!" 

"Little fae, I am never _nice_." 

Maleficent wasn't really threatening Ava, because she would never hurt a child, but of course the children didn't know that, Diaval thought with an internal sigh. Taran and Jena had immediately backed away from Ava, afraid of being caught in the blast radius if Maleficent exploded. Ava, on the other hand, was glowering unrepentantly. "Now, mistress. You must admit you've had your moments," he said mildly. 

"Lies and slander," she retorted, turning her attention back to him. Despite his bare torso, Diaval was uncomfortably warm, and he welcomed the touch of Maleficent's hand on his forehead. It felt cool and soothing, almost like affection. "At some more opportune moment, you may explain to me how you acquired such enthusiastic defenders. For now, I think we are better served by bringing you back to the Moors to recover." 

"To recover?" he repeated. 

Maleficent hesitated, always a bad sign. "I was able to put things back where they belonged, for the most part. I could not grow back the parts that hold it all in place. If I turn you into a shape that can sleep through the healing process -- "

"No," he said immediately. "You want to put me to sleep, like Beastie? For how long? I have a responsibility to these children -- "

"Don't be dramatic, Diaval, I'm merely suggesting that you hibernate for the rest of the winter," she snapped. "You have _iron poisoning_ , as well as a great many pieces of your shoulder that have been recently rearranged. If I had a better solution I would offer it. And of course I will look after your children until you awaken," she added with a sniff. "You are my -- my -- you are mine. I have a duty to take care of you and yours." 

"We don't need looking after," Taran said belligerently. 

Ava nodded, and Jena added almost inaudibly, "We can take care of ourselves, Diaval. You should let her make you better." 

Diaval wanted to argue further, but his shoulder was throbbing, and the heat that seemed to radiate from it throughout his entire body was making him dizzy. "You really think it's necessary?" 

"I don't think the iron poisoning would necessarily kill you," Maleficent said, scrupulously honest. "I do think that if your arm doesn't heal properly it will interfere with your ability to fly when I turn you back to a raven. I'm not going to eat your children while you sleep, you know." 

"Will you wake me with true love's kiss, then?" Diaval asked, which might have been a sign that his fever from the iron poisoning was worse than he'd realized. 

"It's a healing spell, not a curse. It doesn't need to be broken," Maleficent said. "Are we agreed? I trust that you three can fly well enough to follow me while I carry him," she added to the children. The last thing Diaval saw clearly was her eyes glowing green, and the last thing he felt was her arms slipping beneath him to carry him away. 

*

Children, Maleficent decided, were significantly more work than she had realized -- or perhaps Diaval's children were particularly tiresome. They constantly needed to be fed or cleaned or put to bed. Ava seemed to argue with everything she was told. Taran fought incessantly with any human children he met, and even the other fae. Jena would run and hide at the first hint of a less-than-kind word. And not a single one of them had the least notion of personal grooming. 

"You have spoiled them outrageously," she complained aloud. In principle, she didn't care for small enclosed spaces like the cave where she had placed Diaval-the-bear to sleep his wounded shoulder (and the winter) away. In practice, she visited at least once a week to acquaint him with the flaws of his parenting techniques. "Can you believe, when I asked why their wings were so poorly tended, they all said you did their preening for them! I'm sure Aurora never needed so much assistance," she added, although now that she thought about it, she seemed to remember Diaval worrying about all sorts of trivial things, like whether Aurora liked her food or had clothing that covered her and didn't itch. She was beginning to suspect that Diaval had done a great many things for Aurora that she hadn't noticed at the time, and now that he was asleep she would have to do them for his fae children in return. 

"Since this is clearly your own fault," she said, "I'll make sure to preen their wings properly until you wake up." 

When she crawled back outside — the cave was _not_ sized to accommodate the wings of a full-grown fae — Borra was waiting for her. Maleficent straighted up, put back her shoulders, and refused to brush at the debris on her dress. "Well?" she demanded icily. 

"How does he fare?" 

"Still sleeping," she said. It was so easy to provoke Borra that there was really no sport in it, so she relented and added, "He is healing well." 

"I am glad of it." There was a long pause, and then Borra added, with a degree of formality that made him look as though his teeth hurt, "I will apologize to him, on behalf of my people, when he wakes. Many of us looked askance at your choice of a mere animal for your consort, but he has safeguarded our children as valiantly as any fae." 

"Diaval is not a 'mere' anything," she snapped as her feathers fluffed up in anger. A great many things about the fae's attitude towards Diaval — and Diaval's attitude toward them, and her — were becoming clear. "He is loyal, clever, patient — " 

"Peace! Did we not entrust him with our children, the greatest of our treasures, when we learned you did so with yours? I meant no offense. He is not fae, but he has proven himself worthy nonetheless." 

"His _worth_ ," Maleficent said coldly, "is incalculable, and unrelated to your perception of it. Excuse me. I must return to the children." 

*

Diaval dreamed. Mostly they were bear dreams, about eating berries from scratchy bushes and salmon straight from the stream, but sometimes he drifted closer to the surface. Whenever he did, he could hear his mistress talking in her low dangerous voice that never sounded sweet to anyone but him and their Beastie, telling him about things his children had done and said. In those dreams he wasn't a bear: he was a raven, a man, his mistress's servant, his children's caretaker, and he was with Maleficent. He liked those dreams best of all. 

When the dream finally ended, he woke to spring in an unfamiliar cave and a gnawing hunger in his belly. He lumbered outside (his leg had no pain in it, which he distantly remembered was a change, and a good one) and found, instead of food, Maleficent and Taran and Jena and Ava waiting for him. Taran and Jena flew forward immediately to throw their arms around him and press their faces into his fur, but Ava hung back by Maleficent's side. They were all taller now, and Jena had lost nearly all of her baby fat. He rubbed the side of his face against her hair and tried not to worry about how much time he had lost: it wasn't as though he'd be able to change anything now. 

"I suppose you might like to have your voice back," Maleficent said. The children backed away, and she snapped her fingers. 

"Thank you, mistress," Diaval said, or tried to, at least. His voice was so rusty with disuse that he could barely make a sound. After he cleared his throat a few times, he finally managed to gesture to the wings that had sprouted from his back and mention, "These are new." 

"You will need the wings to accompany your brats in the air, and the tongue to respond to their whining," Maleficent said. All three children rolled their eyes, unintimidated: that was new, too. "If you think that I intend to continue caring for them without your assistance, I assure you that you are quite mistaken. Now run along and let us talk, you wretched creatures," she added. A third new thing: they actually obeyed. 

"Did you miss me, then?" he asked, neatly side-stepping the question of why she intended to continue caring for his children at all. 

"Perhaps a little," she said airily. "You know, by fae custom you're my consort four times over now, since we've shared the raising of Beastie and the orphans. You must take responsibility for your duties and stay by my side." 

Diaval's new wings fluttered involuntarily. "I'm not fae," he said. "I'm only a raven." 

"No," Maleficent said. "You are _my_ raven. And I do not let go of what is mine. So you see, there will be no more endangering yourself, or running off to adopt more children without first introducing them to me. If there are dangers or children, we will share them. Is that acceptable?" 

"Perfectly," said Diaval, and in a lingering bearish mannerism, enfolded her in his arms. The customs of the fae could be observed, if his mistress liked; she could call him her consort, or whatever else she pleased. He was a humble raven still at heart, and animals did not bother with fancy words.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads-up, I tweaked a few lines before Author Reveals. If something doesn't sound quite the same as before, your memory isn't playing tricks on you!


End file.
